


Winter's Mother

by FrozenSnares



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fighting, First Meetings, Mother-Son Relationship, Night's Watch, Post ADWD, War, also rickon's age is super important here, but like, i bring it up a bit, some pretty graphic talk about death, the wall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6473026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenSnares/pseuds/FrozenSnares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rickon has been Osha's responsibility ever since they left Winterfell. She does everything she can to take care of him, and she can never do enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter's Mother

He didn't want to be here. Hated it, even. He hated it more and more with every day that passed. All of six years old, and he never had a home that wasn't taken away from him.

Rickon didn't even remember the first. He knew that there was a castle because that's what Osha told him. She whispered stories to him every night, telling him about places and people he couldn't remember. There was nothing in his memory—nothing but snow and wolves. Shaggydog was there, though. His faithful direwolf was the only thing he knew he always had. 

And Osha.

The second home came after months of travel. Rickon complained the entire time on the road. He cried so often that he completely wore himself out, eventually falling asleep. Then, Osha would carry him. She kept him going until he was far away from his first home and any family he had. They went to Skagos, nearly dying on the boat ride there. Rickon fell ill a dozen times on the trip, but Osha kept him alive. He spent days cradled to her chest, never moving, often leaving his body completely to follow Shaggydog until she called him back.

Rickon didn't remember when he first called her _Mother_.

On Skagos, they kept away from the common folk. Months were of them just hiding in forests, learning to survive. They kept near a keep, though. It was close enough that Osha could steal food when Shaggydog couldn't hunt. Rickon learned, though. He picked up the tongue quickly, repeating everything the Skagosi were saying. Osha scolded him the first time he called her _mother_ , making him cry and slink off to his direwolf. She wasn't his mother. She told him that a million times. Still, when Shaggydog wandered off to hunt at night, she always knew, and Rickon woke up every morning with Osha curled up around him and her cloak trapping in their heat.

She stopped correcting him after a while.

They couldn't survive on Skagos. Not really. With Shaggydog hunting and Osha making fires to keep Rickon alive, there was too little time to manage everything else. Rickon was growing fast, and Osha kept having to steal more and more to get him proper clothes. She never complained, though. Osha just did whatever it took to keep him safe.

Osha tried to teach him how to hunt, how to stay safe. But Rickon was six, and he didn't have the muscle to dig a blade into anything. She made him a bow that he couldn't string, but he practiced anyway, promising that he would keep her safe one day. Every time Rickon bounced up to her proclaiming his strength, she’d just brush his hair from his eyes and tell him to keep practicing.

They were living in Kingshouse when the sailor arrived. Osha had sold her skills for a room there, claiming Rickon as her son. He complained about leaving Shaggydog outside, but he was smart enough not to do so where others could hear him, and never in the tongue they knew. It was some miracle that Osha met the sailor first, questioned him about intentions, and kept Rickon safe before she decided if he was trustworthy.

“Little lordling,” she whispered to him that night. She crept into the room quietly, not wanting to wake him.

Rickon tossed about until he faced her, reaching out for her warmth until she wrapped her arms around him.

“We're leaving with the sailor,” she told him. “To your brother.”

“I have Shaggy,” Rickon insisted. “No one else.”

“You have a brother,” Osha said, stroking her fingers through his overgrown hair. “Don't you want to see your family?”

Rickon shook his head roughly, digging himself deeper into the straw mattress. “You're my family,” he said firmly. “Just you and Shaggy.”

“Aye, little lordling,” Osha agreed. “Will you come with me, then?”

“What about Shaggy?” Rickon asked. He finally looked up, eyes brimming with tears as his small hands turned to fists in her shirt.

“Shaggy will come, too,” Osha assured him. She bowed his head down to kiss the crown of his head, pulling the fur over them for the night. Rickon settled against her like he usually did, and Osha hoped he would understand eventually, that he would forgive her for forcing him through such hardships so young. But if this sailor was truly the King's Hand, and if he knew Jon Snow at the Wall, it would be worth the journey. After all, she wasn't going to live forever, and Rickon had to stay safe.

The journey back was harder. Shaggydog didn't like sharing a ship with any of the men, and the sailor Osha trusted, Davos, had a hard time steering the ship up North. _Eastwatch or White Harbor?_ It was all she ever heard. Rickon fell ill again. He didn't do well at sea, and Shaggydog growled loudly at any man who tried to come near. Osha couldn't do much. She just held him, rocked him in her arms until he fell asleep, thinking that soon she wouldn't even be able to carry him.

Rickon hated travelling along the Wall. Even with new clothes and food from the Night's Watch, he couldn't keep up with Osha and Davos on foot. Davos offered him rides on his back, but Rickon didn't trust the man. He hid behind Osha's legs until she carried him herself or placed him atop Shaggydog's back. Rickon mumbled and pouted the whole time. He didn't want to be useless, but he couldn't do much. He was only nearing his seventh nameday, and he would never know what life he was deprived of.

As they approached Castle Black, Osha covered Rickon in her cloak. She put up the hood, drowning him in the fur. For a while, she let him run around with the cloak flying out behind him, but she stopped him before long. He sent Shaggydog into the nearby forest and Osha carried him on her hip to the keep. He looked out from under the hood whenever he could, finding odd-looking men staring at him. Wrapping his arms around Osha’s neck, Rickon hid the rest of the way until they were sent to a room. There, he finally emerged from the cloak, and he immediately went to look out the door.

“Not yet, little lordling,” Osha called. “They’re sending someone to speak with us.”

Rickon crossed his arms and huffed loudly. He could feel something close here, something that felt like _family_. When the doorknob rattled, he lost his nerve, running back behind Osha and hiding in her cloak again.

Osha placed a hand on his back and pulled him closer before speaking. “Jon Snow?”

“Yes,” someone agreed. “And you are…?”

There was a pause, and Rickon snuck a quick glance out from under the cloak. A familiar face was staring at him, but he didn’t know it—not for true. The man was all dark, with a long face and sturdy body. He gave Rickon a smile, but Osha pulled him into her lap, covering him completely.

“Osha,” she finally said.

“Free folk?” Jon asked.

“Aye,” Osha agreed. “I have your brother.”

She pulled the cloak away from Rickon before he could protest, but his small hands snatched out at the fur before he turned around to see the man in the room with them. Rickon sulked down immediately, watching Jon slowly approach.

“Hi, Rickon,” he said tentatively. Jon took a small step forward, spooking Rickon and sending him scurrying behind Osha’s back. Jon’s face fell, and he looked to Osha. “How long has it—?”

Osha shook her head, and Jon stopped speaking. He sighed loudly. Rickon pressed harder into Osha’s back, grabbing her tunic for balance.

“Does he speak?” Jon asked.

“Aye,” Osha replied.

“Write?” he added more hopefully.

Osha shook her head again. “Free folk don’t have time for letters.”

Jon gave her a terse smile. “Of course,” he said. He slumped into a chair, catching his head in his hands. “You’ve been given leave to stay here at the Wall under the protection of Stannis Baratheon. However… I have been asked to leave.”

Osha narrowed her eyes at Jon. “You swore vows.”

“It’s far more complicated than that,” he relented. “I intend to march on Winterfell with Stannis. He offered me a name, but I’d rather fight for Rickon’s cause.”

Nodding, Osha turned to slowly back to Rickon. He cowered down out of sight, hiding under her cloak again. Jon sighed again, standing slowly. After a moment, he simply excused himself and left the room. Rickon moved forward immediately, looking up at Osha.

“What about Shaggydog?” he asked.

Pulling Rickon onto her lap, Osha smoothed out his hair. “They’ll let him in soon,” she told him. “And we’ll stay here together, though they’ll make you learn your letters.”

Rickon furrowed his brow. “What are letters?”

\--

Rickon hated letters even more than he hated the Wall. He didn’t want to be here, and he missed Skagos. At least he had been allowed to run around on the island. The men of the Night’s Watch dismissed him and moved him out of their way as if he was a misplaced stool. Rickon also hated the man teaching him letters. He didn’t seem to know the difference between what he was writing and it annoyed Rickon. Osha soon pulled him away from those lessons, asking after a maester to teach him. However, Aemon Targaryen was recently deceased, and the Night’s Watch had no maester for the time being. After some time, Osha arranged for the princess Shireen Baratheon to teach him, though her mother only agreed as long as Osha supervised them.

“Isn’t the princess cursed?” Rickon asked. He sat on the floor, beckoning Shaggydog over and digging his hands into the direwolf’s fur. “She has greyscale, doesn’t she?”

Osha bit her tongue, trying to think of how to ease Rickon away from the stigma that the Skagosi perpetuated. Upon meeting the child, she herself had been frightened, but she easily looked past it for Rickon’s sake. “She’s cured,” Osha tried. “It doesn’t harm her anymore because she’s stronger than everyone else who got it.”

“She is?” Rickon asked, skill quite skeptical.

“Mhmm.” Osha nodded firmly. “She has dragonblood.”

“She does?” Rickon jumped up, much more excited now.

“Aye, little lordling,” Osha agreed. “But she’s going to be teaching you letters, and she doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Oh,” Rickon’s face fell. “But… does that make her part dragon like I’m part wolf?”

“I don’t know. Mayhap when you’re older, she’ll let you ask.”

\--

Rickon was incredibly impatient throughout all of his lessons. He spent most of his time just watching Shireen, staring at her greyscale. He wanted to touch it. Maybe she felt like a dragon now, too. Scribbling down, Rickon followed all of her instructions, laughing whenever Osha didn’t learn as fast as he did. She would usually just scowl at him and move away, but Shireen was incredibly kind and patient with them, taking the time to teach them everything. Rickon’s staring was the only thing that made her shy away, and she’d move seats if he did it too much. She even let her hair fall over her face to cover it, but Rickon was determined.

He waited three weeks for Osha to leave their lesson, then turned to Shireen eagerly. “Do you really have dragon blood?” he asked without preamble. “It cured you of your greyscale, didn’t it? I know because you’re not dead.”

“No,” Shireen said softly, moving away again. “I do have Targaryen blood, but I’m a Baratheon. The greyscale is healed, though. You won’t catch it.”

“Does it feel like a dragon?”

Shireen gave him a small smile. “Maybe,” she said. “I’ve never met a dragon, though.”

Rickon frowned. He stared down at his letters, scratching out a few more. “So you’re not a dragon?” Rickon asked. He picked at the table and put down the quill. “You’re not like me and Shaggy?”

“Who’s Shaggy?” Shireen asked back.

Grinning, Rickon looked up at Shireen, ready to tell her all about his wolf. However, Osha walked back in, and he stopped himself. He didn’t want Osha to ruin it for him. Slowly, Rickon scratched out sloppy letters, trying to make their sounds in his head, and making sure that they were right before tapping Shireen’s arm gently. She blinked over, looking down at his writing, seeing the poorly written letters that spelled out _later_.

With a smile, Shireen nodded, going back to Osha’s side and helping her through a few more letters.

\--

“There’s a giant,” Shireen told Rickon, following him through the snow. She tugged up Osha’s cloak over her shoulders. Rickon insisted that she wear it. _For safety_ , he said.

Rickon frowned, plowing on. “Shaggy’s better,” he assured her. They stopped in the most secluded part of Castle Black, and Rickon looked around, checking that no one was around to catch them. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled sloppily, trying to mimic the sound Osha makes to call Shaggydog back when he wanders off too far.

Shireen looked skeptical, but she let out a light gasp as the massive black direwolf bounded up to them. Retreating back a few steps, she pulled the cloak tighter around herself, hoping that the direwolf was truly as great as Rickon said. The small boy took eager steps toward the wolf, and Shireen felt the urge to pull him back. She balked, though, letting Rickon run toward the wolf and watching him be completely run down.

Laughing, Rickon rolled over in the snow. He batted Shaggydog’s head away, crawling away on his knees before running in half-circles. Rickon only ever got a few steps away before the direwolf pounced on him again. Every time, Shireen gasped loudly, but Rickon was never injured. He only laughed and continued running away.

“Come play,” he called over to Shireen.

She shook her head roughly, eyes wide with fear. Slowly, she started to take small steps away. Shireen managed to catch Shaggydog’s curiosity, though, and the direwolf made his way over to her. Turning her face from the direwolf, Shireen held her breath, waiting for the direwolf to pounce. Rickon frowned, watching his wolf closely. Shaggydog sniffed intently at her, sticking his snout in her cloak to find her hands. The smallest flick of his tongue hit her hands, and Rickon grinned.

“See? He likes you.”

Blinking up, Shireen watched Shaggydog walk back to Rickon and knock him over. He laughed again, rolling through the snow. With a few steps, Shireen joined them in the yard. Shaggydog greeted her enthusiastically, pushing his head into her side and nearly knocking her over. Rickon stayed sitting in the snow, watching Shireen grow used to his wolf and start petting him with a soft smile on her face. She let out a small yelp when Shaggydog finally succeeded at pushing her over.

“Rickon!”

He winced, turning to the voice. Osha strode toward them, hands on her hips and looking thoroughly peeved at his gall. Sinking back to the snow, Rickon tried to whistle again. Shaggydog slowly went back to his side.

Glaring at him the whole time, Osha went straight to Shireen. “Apologies, Princess,” she said, helping Shireen back to her feet. “I’ll take you back to your chambers.”

Shireen gave her a small nod, turning to wave at Rickon before Osha moved her away. Rickon looked after them until they were out of sight. Then, he ran after them. He carefully snuck back into the tower, following just too far away to eavesdrop until Osha led Shireen back in her rooms.

“…just with the little lordling,” Osha said.

“Alone?” someone replied.

Rickon looked further into the room, finding a mean-looking woman. She was very similar to Shireen, but Shireen didn’t look that mean. Rickon frowned.

“That’s improper,” the woman continued. “They could be married one day. This is unacceptable.”

“Of course, m’lady,” Osha said. “It won’t happen again.” She turned to the door, and Rickon slunk back into the shadows, hiding from her sight.

He waited until Osha was gone before he tried to follow after her. He easily became distracted when Shireen started speaking.

“Will I really be wed to Rickon?”

Her mother scoffed. “If he turns into less of a wildling, mayhap,” she replied. “You’re the heir to the seven kingdoms, and he is heir to the North. It is a good a match for you if only he wasn’t so improper.”

“He’s seven,” Shireen said. Rickon frowned again, trying to figure out where his age fit into any of this.

“Then, he has time to become a good warrior for you before we arrange anything.”

“Will you tell Father?”

Stepping away from the room, Rickon ran away. He needed to find Osha. Though he knew his letters, he wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about. He had questions to be answered. He rushed back to the room he shared with Osha. He found her sitting at a table, weaving some ends of strings together. His bow was over her lap, and a different question came to mind instead.

“Will I be a great warrior?” he asked Osha, suddenly overcome with a desire to hold the title.

Osha huffed, biting off an end of the string with her teeth. “I reckon you will be,” she said, not sparing him a glance. “If your kings can’t finish these wars soon, you might be the youngest, too.”

Rickon contented himself with that, watching her work with the bow a bit. He couldn’t tamp down the memory from earlier, and those words came spilling out, too. “What’s a good match?”

Osha snorted. “I reckon one between the free folk and your people,” she said.

“What does it _mean_?” he tried again, not knowing why Osha was talking about free folk when the mean lady was talking about him.

She looked up at that, shooting Rickon a questioning look. “You needn’t worry yourself with things like that, little lordling,” she said. “It’ll be years before you get one.”

Rickon furrowed his brow. “I’m gonna get one?” he asked.

“Not until you learn to hold a sword proper,” Osha shot back. “I thought you wanted to be a warrior.”

“Will you teach me?” he asked, eager again to fight.

\--

Rickon was, by far, the youngest boy in the training yard. Even though he was forced to wait months to start training with them, the boy best at rivalling him in age bested him by at least four years. His sword was much too large, his armor swallowing his body, but he was determined to fight. With quite some effort, he forced himself through the training. Rickon refused to stop for anything, even when Osha tried to pull him away. He would not be coddled by his mother, not when he wanted to fight.

The only thing that managed to draw his attention away was a howl from Shaggydog. Rickon hefted up his shield—the smallest they owned—and sought out his direwolf. Shaggydog was stalking toward the gates of Castle Black, having been shut out the previous night. Slowly, Rickon escaped his training and wandered over.

A small company of Baratheon men—the last remaining at the Wall—were saddled and preparing to leave. Among them was Shireen, standing stoic, if a little sad beside her horse. She stroked the mane gently, looking down at the snow. A man was going around, fixing up the horses and bringing a step for her and her mother. Shireen glanced over to her mother before she found Rickon staring at her. With a small smile, she bowed her head to him.

Rickon’s frown deepened, and Shireen looked worried. She waited until her mother was occupied with the step before going over to him.

“You’re leaving,” Rickon said simply.

Shireen nodded. “My father has reclaimed Winterfell,” she told him. “Jon Snow holds the castle now. He invited me and my mother to stay.”

Rickon kicked the snow, wondering where his invitation was. Instead, he focused on a different idea. “I have to stay so I can train,” he declared.

“Will you keep writing?” Shireen asked. “I’d hate for our lessons to go to waste.”

Shrugging, Rickon turned away. Even though their lessons together were shorter now, he didn’t want her to leave. She was his only friend on the Wall. “I dunno what I would write,” he mumbled out.

“You could send me a raven,” Shireen suggested. “Just to say hello.”

“Shireen!” someone called shrilly behind her. She jumped at the noise, turning back to the party.

“Goodbye, Rickon,” she said, brushing a hand through his hair. “Tell Shaggy goodbye for me, as well.”

Rickon nodded, watching her leave to mount her horse. She was still so much taller than him, so much stronger. He didn’t even know why he didn’t want her to leave. He only knew that he would be very bored without her here. Suddenly, the Wall seemed much colder.

\--

It was few months before Rickon remembered her words. He spent the time learning to fight, building muscle to start lifting his sword higher and higher, practicing with daggers, and trying to make himself into a warrior. Osha safely kept their quarters at Castle Black, though more than a few men complained about her and had mysterious bruises over their bodies after speaking with her. She assured Rickon that it was nothing, but he still insisted that they keep Shaggydog closer.

The men of the Night’s Watch agreed to Rickon’s request when he first spoke it, but they came to quickly regret their decision. Shaggydog had an entirely different demeanor than Ghost. He spent most of his nights stalking the shadows of the castle, scaring men from wandering out of their rooms. It was enough that Rickon was nearly dismissed all together when he asked for a raven.

Eventually, he found a man willing to walk him over to the rookery. The man was called Old Pomegranate by his men, and Rickon couldn’t remember if that was his actual name. Instead, he focused on walking to the rookery, and was greeted by a mess of noise, but he quickly found a piece of parchment to write on. Shireen told him to say hello, but he didn’t know what else to write. When he showed the simple message to the man he was with, the man laughed.

“One usually includes names on the message,” he told Rickon. “So they know who to give it to and who it came from.”

Rickon nodded sagely, adding on both of their names. He frowned, thinking that the message now sounded weird. Grabbing another scrap of paper, Rickon scribbled it out again, reordering the words until they sound right. Then, he carefully tied the message and let Old Pomegranate send off the three words.

Later, Osha laughed at him until he turned red from embarrassment. She pulled him back into the room when he tried to run off and handed him a new bow. “Not a lord of letters, then,” she told him, “but a warrior for your princess.”

His face flushed an even deeper red, and he shoved Osha back onto the bed. “Not for _her_ ,” he corrected. “For me.”

“Yes, my lordling,” she said, mussing his hair, “and me, too, I hope?”

Rickon smiled up at her. “Aye.”

\--

It was some form of luck that allowed them a few years before the war came north again. Rickon was just shy of his eleventh nameday when they were told to leave south for their safety. Osha had politely refused, but Rickon had drawn his short sword on the man, daring him to send them off. Pulling him back by the collar, Osha pushed him back in the direction of their rooms.

“I can fight!” Rickon declared loudly, rounding on her. He had grown much taller at the Wall, but he still looked small to her.

“And you will,” she said gently.

As the armies came to the Wall, they were sent off to garrison other castles along the Wall. Rickon watched them all come and go, hearing names pass him, though he wasn’t sure what he listened for. It was only when the Baratheon army came that Rickon ran out to look through the crowds of men. Shaggydog became his shadow, following him about the keep.

By now, he was used to the odd looks he got from the passing men. The words of “Stark” and “Winterfell” were familiar in his ears, particularly when Shaggydog accompanied him. The direwolf stood even taller than he did, even though he wasn’t quite small anymore. Rickon knew why they looked now. Osha explained to him that he was the heir to Winterfell as his father’s last trueborn son. Rickon ignored it, not particularly caring about the title. However, he was shocked to receive a summons.

Weaving through the men now swarming Castle Black, Rickon walked calmly over to the tower where Stannis Baratheon was. The man in question was much taller than he was, and Rickon stood up straighter for it, hoping to be taken seriously.

“Rickon Stark,” the man said. He strode about the room, removing his crown before facing Rickon directly.

It is only when Rickon met the man’s eyes that he knew what he was looking for, but then he felt foolish. Of course _she_ wouldn’t be here. She needed to stay safe. The man in front of him had exactly her eyes, though, and Rickon nodded a small acknowledgement.

“You’re trained, then?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “And prepared to fight?”

Rickon swallowed hard. “Yes, ser.”

“And you know who I am?”

This time, Rickon shook his head. He might have known the answer, but he also knew that _Shireen’s father_ wasn’t the right one.

“I am the king. Stannis Baratheon,” he declared. Seeing Rickon’s utter lack of a response, he added on, “Typically, my subjects kneel before me.”

“Free folk aren’t kneelers,” Rickon blurted out. He simply repeated the truth of what he heard all his childhood, but he knew that he irked this man.

Stannis gave him a terse smile. “Neither do kings.” He walked about the room again, and Rickon wondered what the purpose of this was. He nearly left when Stannis spoke again. “Would you like to be king?”

Rickon hesitated. He didn’t know what he wanted, only that nothing quite fit. He didn’t have a home or a family to fight for. All he had was a throne he didn’t want and his direwolf. Then, a thought struck him. “No,” he said.

That got the attention of the king. Stannis froze in his tracks, turning to face Rickon again. “No?” he said. “Do you not fight for glory? To be a warrior?”

Carefully, Rickon shook his head. “No,” he repeated. “I—I have someone to protect.”

“I see.” Stannis slowly moved away, looking down at a table for a moment. He grabbed a folded scrap of parchment, twisting it in his hands a bit before setting it back down. “Survive the war, then, Lord Stark, and we’ll see where your future leads. I hear the northmen want you to lead.” He waved his hand lazily, dismissing Rickon.

With growing curiosity, Rickon left the tower. Suddenly, he was being greeted with bows and calls of _King in the North_ and _Lord Stark_. Discomfort built up in him, and he rushed back to Osha.

“What did the—?” she started, but Rickon cut her off.

“Why do they think I’m king?” he asked, hard accusation in his voice. He looked panicked, and Osha wanted to pull him into her lap, even though he had long outgrown that.

\--

The war was long and torturous. Despite their numbers at the Wall, the wights seemed like they would never stop coming. Osha watched on, keeping Rickon in her sight whenever she could. He insisted in going out to fight, regardless of what the northmen asked of him or what everyone advised. Heir to Winterfell or not, Rickon was going to fight. After hearing this decision, Osha made the opposite. She would only assist where needed, but she would make certain that Rickon made it back alive.

Men and women both manned the Wall, keeping both sides safe. For the first time ever, Osha imagined, the far north was the most active in all of the realm. Travel was constant between the castles of the Night’s Watch, bringing food and supplies. The stream of people was nonstop, and Osha thanked all the gods she knew of that they weren’t on an edge of the Wall, where men were surely fighting off hoards of wights from crossing through the water, as well as manning ships and moving things off to sail and send along the Wall.

As much as she made it a priority to keep Rickon in her sights, he busied himself easily. Lazy as he could have been, Osha was proud to see him taking on responsibility when he didn’t have to. He wandered into the blacksmith’s area a few times, carrying a number of swords for sharpening. She also caught him planning out battle strategies with other lords. Those times, she’d sneak into the room, watching over him. 

Standing against a wall, Osha watched as Rickon pointed over to small statue. Another man snatched it from the table, moving it into a bin. His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. Another man stepped forward, grumbling something out.

“No,” Rickon said firmly. He turned slightly, glancing over to the man at his side.

“Stark is right,” the man said. Osha shifted her gaze to him, seeing the older man grind his teeth together. “We cannot end this soon. We need more men—more bodies. _Anyone_ who can fight.”

Someone snorted. “We fight for the wildlings’ land… are they even fighting with us?”

“We fought for years before you even noticed,” Osha snarled out.

Several men turned toward her, looking peeved. She was prepared for the lashing, for being asked away from the room. Someone stepped rather aggressively toward her.

“She stays.”

The man turned. He looked furious, ready to pounce on Rickon for daring to speak. Obviously, he was not accustomed to being given orders by someone who could be his child. Rickon was definitely the youngest in the room, despite commanding the attention he had. He was rarely dismissed, and though he didn’t speak much, he was always obeyed. Rickon’s focus went to her for a brief moment before he turned back to the map before him.

“Oakenshield will need more men soon,” Rickon said.

The tension in the room dissipated, and the man slowly stepped away. Osha watched Rickon throughout the remainder of the meeting. She resisted the urge to treat him like a child. Regardless of his age, Rickon was a man now. If he could step into battle himself and ask others to die for him, then he was no longer a child. Osha sighed, realizing that removing him from Skagos had stripped him of any sort of childhood he had remaining. Moving as quietly as before, Osha left the room prior to when the men were released.

She went into her room, preparing to sleep since nightfall had long since fallen. Sounds of battle seeped in from beyond the wall, but Osha didn’t want to think about Rickon rejoining the men out there on the morrow, even with Shaggydog at his side. Still, she wouldn’t stop him. She would only keep him safe.

\--

Months into the war, the pace of battle became repetitive. Each day mimicked the last, with little variation in between. Osha’s only reminder that time continued to pass was Rickon’s growth. He was the only man at the Wall going through drastic and visible change, because he wouldn’t have been considered ready for battle by anyone else’s standards.

More than Rickon, Shaggydog grew to become even more massive. He was a constant presence around Castle Black. As much as he fit into the black of the Night’s Watch, he also became a constant shadow around the entire area. Men were no longer spooked by the direwolf, preferring the company of the great beast to the horrors on the other side of the wall.

Constant as the fighting is, Osha was surprised at how often moments of calm seep into it. She watched as the boy she raised became a man and was forced into making more and more difficult decisions every day.

Long after night fell, Osha woke late, blinking through the haze of darkness. She found Rickon’s taller, lankier silhouette standing a few feet from her bed. His breathing was loud, louder than she expected, and she knew something was wrong.

“M-mo—” his voice was trembling too much for words, but Osha hushed him.

She pulled away her fur, inviting Rickon closer. He slumped down against her immediately, his entire body shaking with sob. Holding him to her chest, Osha pressed her mouth to his hair, murmuring soft sounds to him and rubbing a hand over his shoulders. Tall as he had become, Osha still wanted to coddle him, to hold him close and hide him from this destruction. He had chosen against that, though, so she was here for him when he chose for her to be.

A long time passed before Rickon settled, and Osha briefly wondered what terror he was forced to witness, what death could have possibly caused this reaction. It was only the heat that entered the room with him that let her know Shaggydog was still safe. Kissing the crown of his head, Osha was tempted to take him far away now, to let him have his childhood forever after being so thoroughly ruined by the wills of gods and men. Finally, Rickon spoke, his voice soft and almost imperceptible in the silence.

“Does the sun have to rise?” Rickon asked.

Osha shook her head slowly. “No, little lordling,” she told him. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Really?”

“No,” Osha repeated. “But the day it doesn’t will be the day you wish it had.”

For the next two months, Osha did everything in her power to keep Rickon away from the war. It was simple enough for the first few weeks, claiming that he needed rest after the constant stream of battle, but it became progressively more difficult as time passed. He left her room constantly to walk about aimlessly with Shaggydog. It alerted men to his presence at the Wall, and led to further questions about his part in the war.

The questions just panicked Rickon more than anything, making him slink away into the shadows. Osha spent a good time searching for him, scaring off any men who were trying to make this boy of ten years feel weak. It wasn’t for a few weeks more that Rickon finally told her what happened.

“He told me to kill him,” Rickon mumbled out, sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. Shaggydog curled protectively around him, and Osha looked up from his tunic that she was stitching. He slowly met her gaze, though she knew he wasn’t seeing her at all. “He fought off a wight, and crawled up to me…”

Osha slowly put down her sewing, shifting closer to him.

Rickon swallowed hard, squeezing his eye shut tight. “He grabbed my sword, and I couldn’t—I didn’t… I was still holding it when he put it through his neck,” Rickon finished, slumping over his knees. Shaggydog twisted about to place his snout over Rickon’s back.

Slowly, Osha walked to his side. She carefully eased Shaggydog away, knowing that the direwolf was more likely to snap when Rickon was upset. However, she managed to get near enough to shift Rickon into her lap, letting him rest against her chest. Rickon’s entire body sagged against her, and he wrapped his arms around her middle.

“Will I—Am I… did I kill him?” he asked, his voice shaking again.

“No, little lordling,” Osha murmured against his hair. “No, you didn’t. He decided his life was done, not you.”

“Do I have to fight again?” Rickon asked.

The overwhelming grief in Osha nearly pushed her to tears, thinking that boys should never be expected to play parts in war at one and ten. Rickon had always been determined, though, and it was perhaps his desire to prove himself that drove him over the edge. She hugged Rickon tight, wondering if there could ever be a correct answer for her to give.

\--

Rickon did eventually make it back onto the battlefield, which was almost expected in the five years more that the war lasted. Along with the fighting came even more people to the Wall. Their losses were great, and Osha thanked the old gods that Rickon was never taken from her. He was truly a man by the end of the war, and Osha thought that he was now the oldest man at just six and ten. As the greater effects of the war wound down, the gathered men and women prepared to return to the lands that were abandoned throughout the war.

Rickon was particularly distant as everyone departed. He never responded to any of the summons he received, he didn’t attend any of the services for deaths, nor did he talk. Where he became silent, Shaggydog growled and barked more and more, scaring anyone from trying to get him to fulfill his responsibilities. No one succeeded at giving him any information and he disappeared from the Wall as quietly as he came. It was Osha’s greatest fear: that he would suddenly vanish without telling her. It seemed that she was the only one allowed to know. He simply walked into her room one day, nudged her arm, and gestured outside.

They walked to Winterfell side by side, and even with Osha sneaking glances at him, she could tell that he would forever be haunted. He looked lonelier than he had ever been before, even without family, and Osha wasn’t sure she would ever forgive herself for putting him through it. It is a long, slow walk back. Osha had stored food for the trip, pulling it out and feeding them whenever Shaggydog didn’t drag back a kill, but she was thankful for the direwolf’s willingness to hunt. Her age was quickly catching up to her, and she had long been thinking about Rickon’s future more than her own.

His interests appeared to be far beyond whatever was expected of lords fit to rule, though. They returned to a near-empty Winterfell, and Rickon turned into a ghost stalking its halls. He was rarely seen by her, and she suspected that no one else knew he was there. Even Shaggydog became more solitary, hiding in shadows of abandoned corridors.

It would be a wonder that Winterfell even ran properly if not for the presence of the Baratheon princess. She had grown much from her time at the Wall. Osha remembered how sad she looked even when teaching Rickon his letters, and she thought that they have largely changed dispositions. While Shireen was now more willing to talk to people and assist however possible, Rickon had withdrawn almost entirely into himself.

Large groups passed through Winterfell on their way back south, and though Rickon’s presence was requested by nearly all of them, he never appeared. Osha listened to all the requests that were to go to Rickon, and she became peeved that an overwhelming majority of them were simply for his hand in marriage. After he fought through such a long, torturous war, surely they wouldn’t expect him to reach any sort of decision like that soon. He drifted around Winterfell without purpose, usually only managing to be glimpsed for an instant before escaping anyone else’s vision for another day. Osha never told this to anyone, though, simply asking them to send correspondences after the realm was given time to heal.

Shireen watched on, obviously giving Osha leave to act as his mother, and she reminded herself to thank the princess later. After seeing her son hurt so much from bloodshed, she wouldn’t bear seeing him torn apart by a woman who only wished for his titles and land. The Baratheon princess kept everything running, though, and Osha realized that Winterfell would be at a loss without her when the Baratheon army collected her on their way south.

Nothing brought Rickon away from his solitude, and Osha almost hoped that he would become as feral as he was when she first met him. At least then, he’d have some form of life in him. Now, it seemed as if Rickon was barely making it through the days, even now that spring was upon them. He had no reaction to any of it, going through each day as if it were another trial of his will, as if his past could possibly correct itself with another day added onto it.

Osha had no idea how to help him. Years have now passed since Rickon tried to climb into her bed, to ask for a mother’s comfort from her. She felt the loss of him greater than anything else in her life. This is the boy she raised, this man who has been entirely without family, and she thought that she has failed at doing the one thing she swore to.

Walking across the battlements, Osha found Rickon sitting, looking more lost and forlorn that she had ever seen him. She tried to think of a way down, to comfort him and remind him that they could still run away if he wanted to. Before she can locate a route, The Baratheon princess came into view. Her gown swept a path through the thin layer of snow, and she hesitated a few steps away before she bundled up her skirts to sit at his side.

If Rickon noticed her at all, he did nothing to show it. Shireen said nothing. She simply sat in the silence with him, smoothing her gown over her knees. A few minutes passed, and Osha thought she should leave, thinking that there was surely no hope for him to recover anytime soon. However, Shireen pulled a small scrap of parchment from her sleeve, gingerly placing it on Rickon’s knee. His eyes flicked up once, and a long moment passed before he raised his head to it, finally stretching out a hand to lift it. 

It took another impossibly long moment, but ever so slowly Rickon’s mouth stretched up the slightest bit at the corners. He placed the parchment back on his knee, leaning the smallest bit toward Shireen. Osha held her breath watching the two of them, staying just long enough to see Rickon cover Shireen’s small hand in his. Letting out the breath she had been holding, Osha slowly turned away.

Maybe she couldn’t be his comfort anymore. She couldn’t be trusted to care for him and keep him safe after everything she put him through. Rickon had been far too broken for her to even think of fixing for a long time now. Perhaps it was time to pass that responsibility on to someone else.

After all, it was the first time she had seen Rickon smile in years.


End file.
